


i want to breathe you in like a vapour

by mercurysgyeom



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kim Yugyeom-centric, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurysgyeom/pseuds/mercurysgyeom
Summary: it’s just two petals.the signs of yugyeom’s impending death.





	i want to breathe you in like a vapour

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings** : talk of illness/disease, talk of death, implications of an eating disorder.

 

it’s just two petals.

they fall into his open hands without warning, without even a suggestion that the slight ache in his chest is from anything but the amount of stress he is forcing himself through from intense practices to feelings developing that he knows he shouldn’t have. there isn’t even one hint and he isn’t sure if that is something he should be happy about (because at least he wasn’t aware, at least he wasn’t suffering with the knowledge that something is truly wrong with him, right?).

long limbs forever unruly, he’s trying his best to not make a sliver of noise as he sneaks back into the dorm from a night of harsh training he knows his hyungs will not agree with. two of them are resting against the curves of the couch, the sound of some old drama faint in the background. it’s strange to see them at peace, no sight of the lines that usually crease their forehead and the tenseness that comes with dealing with a bunch of childish group members, and he relishes in it, relishes how strangely beautiful they seem in this moment and how he finds it hard to tear his eyes away.

just as a smile curves upon his lips, an itch appears in his throat.

at first, it feels small. ignorable. unimportant. he continues his silent journey without a thought, without wondering why this has only appeared now, at just the most convenient point in time - but then it builds and builds and builds, keeps building until the urge is strong and scratching up his throat, the coughing that ensues feeling as if he is about to throw up his lungs and his eyes burning with unshed tears from the force of it. the sound of his own wheezing floods his ears, screeching, slicing through the tranquility of the room with ease, piercing enough that one of them starts to shift in his sleep.

escaping around the corner with a hand clasped over his lips, he oh-so-gently presses the door to his room shut, thankful now that it is no longer shared with a nosy roommate. it’s not challenging to hear the grumbles of a man or two woken from slumber and it’s not challenging either to feel his the pain of a throat scraped raw and _something_ present in his grip. barely even noticeable, really, whatever happens to be clenched in his fist and he peers at it without the fear that will hit soon, that will strike the air out of his already damaged lungs and leave him quaking, trembling with the realisation that nothing will ever, _ever_ be right for him again.

it’s just two petals, thin white, speckled with red, fragile in his large hands. _daisies._ he will learn later, when he stashes away a book that contains every little connotation to every little petal that finds its way into his possession, that these dainty flowers represent innocence. it must be ironic then, for they are tainted with the blood of a naive boy who is anything but virtuous.

it’s _just_ two petals, he tries to convince himself, failing, present in the way he sinks to his knees and he stares blankly, eyes hazy and glazed over from the shock of it all, never wavering from the one point where purity meets sin on the tip of one of the tiny things.

it’s just two petals.

the signs of yugyeom’s impending death.

-

_hanahaki disease is a disease present in those experiencing unrequited love in which flowers begin to grow in the victim’s lungs and petals are expelled through the mouth in a violent manner. as time passes, the coughing grows in intensity and roots will begin to grow in the respiratory system. the disease can be cured in two ways: if the person the victim is in love with begins to experience similar feelings or if surgery is performed to remove the infection, although the later has side effects some may find indesirable, such as a loss of romantic love. if not treated, the disease will prove fatal._

_hanahaki disease is incredibly rare, with few recorded cases outside of specific areas. currently, the only countries reported to deal with the disease are japan, south korea, taiwan, china, hong kong, bangladesh, thailand, malaysia, the philippines, singapore, indonesia and australia. the disease has only been documented approximately 60 times in the last decade, with 21 of those cases ending in a fatality…_

yugyeom is aware that the first thing you do when you realise that you’re probably dying probably isn’t to research every little detail of the illness plaguing you, but tears are something he doesn’t think he can achieve right now, not when every inch of his long frame feels simultaneously _numb_ and _burning_ , not when his mind is consumed with nothing and every little sound around him is buzzing into barely present white noise. his search history is likely filled with every little question he could pull from his slightly (or maybe not so slightly) delirious brain, his eyes strained from constantly staring at a bright screen, even as the pitch blackness just outside the window became too much to ignore and even as the rays of the sun began to cast patterns across the expanse of the room (the room that should feel like home, should make yugyeom feel _safe_ , but feels so empty and leaves him _cold_ ).

he peers down at the numbers ticking by, tired eyes blearily blinking nearly every second to keep his vision focused. _5:43._ their schedule begins in little over twenty minutes and yugyeom doesn’t want to do this- doesn’t want to fall back in normality after the news that had just slapped him the face hours prior, doesn’t want to have to pretend that he’s completely and utterly fine when the concept is unknown to him. but he has to. he has no choice in the matter (just like he had no choice in _this_ , in everything, in the love for two people who view him as a child, as the boy who became a brother and nothing _more_ , as an irritating little pest who teased them at every given opportunity, who never bothered to show any respect or care or any sign of affection - and _god_ , yugyeom can’t blame them for not loving him).

there’s a pair of old pyjamas crumpled up on the ground by his feet and he slips them on, ruffling his dark hair until it matches his typical state, hoping that the bags under his eyes and the curve downward of his lips can be matched to the exhaustion all of them are experiencing in preparation for their new comeback, hoping that no one notices how fucking terrified yugyeom actually is and how much he wishes this is some kind of fucked up nightmare.

every step causes yugyeom’s limbs to ache in protest as he pads into the kitchen. the space is so, so barren without youngjae’s blaring laughter or jackson’s constant chatter or bambam’s neverending mischief - and the lack of their presence has never hurt quite as much as it does right now. mark is nowhere to be seen and yugyeom doesn’t even have to guess that he’s out again, at jackson’s as he forever seems to be, and so he’s left with the causes behind the flowers he can feel blossoming in his lungs.

jinyoung wrinkles his nose in disgust at his appearance and jaebum doesn’t even look his way.

when he tumbles into the shower a while later, he’s glad for the water gliding down his skin.

it makes it harder to notice the tears tracking down his cheeks.

-

(later in the day, they sing.

**_every word you say makes my heart flutter. you make me excited every day. i look at you again and again._ **

_i wish i could make your heart flutter, jinyoung-hyung. i wish i could make you feel anything but irritation. i wish i could see love in your eyes when you look at me. i wish for a lot of things. i don’t think it’s getting me anywhere, hyung._

**_send me a sign, just need one word from you. there’s fire on my feet, i want you._ **

_a sign, jaebum-hyung? i think i’ve sent you a lot of those. you think you’d notice how much i blush when you touch me or how much i tend to stare at your lips and your shoulders and into your eyes - ah, it’s embarrassing, honestly! but i know you don’t want me and i know i’m not who you’re looking for sign from._

with every word out of their lips, the roots spread just a little bit further.)

-

months pass and yugyeom crafts a collection of petals in a box he hides beneath his bed.

 _marigolds_ . for cruelty, grief, _jealousy_. for when jinyoung smiles, truly smiles, the skin around the edge of his eyes crinkling, a genuine smile never reserved for yugyeom - for when envy burns in the pit of his stomach because he wants that, wants jinyoung to look at him like he actually matters or means something. for when jaebum hears some comment from a fan and laughs, throwing his whole body back as it rips through him, the joy so clear in his pleased expression - for when hurt gets the best of him, because he’s never that gleeful when yugyeom is in his sight, he’s never so taken over with happiness, overwhelmed with it, when yugyeom lets something silly fall from his lips.

 _roses_ . for eternal love. for when jinyoung is soft, for once, quiet and just skimming through the pages of one of his many novels, a small grin settled on his lips - for when jinyoung’s so eye-catching, so striking, so _breathtaking_ in his almost silent beauty that it near knocks yugyeom off his feet and makes breathing harder than the flowers do. for when jaebum lets go, falls out of his working mindset and allows himself to relax for once, a tranquility present on his sharp features - for when jaebum is so different to his normal self that yugyeom can’t bring himself to look away, arresting his eyes and never allowing them to even stray from the pretty smile that makes itself apparent, both rows of teeth visible. for when yugyeom falls even more in love with the two of them, somehow.

 _asters._ for patience, which yugyeom held far too much of. _yellow carnations_ . for rejection, something yugyeom was far too used to. _freesias_ . for innocence, something that had slipped from his grasp. _gardenias_ . for sweetness, even when his love felt so bitter. _queen anne’s laces._ for a sanctuary, something yugyeom had never had. _buttercups_. for radiant charm, something he felt he no longer could show off.

so many flowers. so many that yugyeom knew the exact meaning of. he could run his fingers over one while blindfolded and still know it’s name, because he finds some strange essence of beauty in the texture of them beneath his touch and the way the blood from his lungs blends with the multi coloured petals.

so many flowers. _too_ many.

(the research hadn’t warned him of one thing.

it can take years for a victim to fall like withered petals, albeit in agony.

but that’s when you’re only in one person.

what happens when you’re in love with two?)

-

it only takes months for yugyeom to reach one of the final stages.

he’s on his knees now, coughing violently into the toilet bowl, his golden hair plastered to his forehead from the sweat formed by the violence of it all. it’s demanding, the amount of strength it takes to force the hundreds of petals up his throat, and paired with the fatigue from the facade of over excitement he’s decorated himself with, it’s so very near to pushing him off the edge. between each heave of his caved in chest, small sobs escape and yugyeom isn’t quite sure which he’d be more mortified by the others hearing, thankful for the low music that covers his wheezes.

when it settles, at least for a while, yugyeom leans back, a twisted little smile falling onto his broken, bloodied lips. _daisies_. a reminder of the past, of before he starting choking on petals every night when no one could hear the pain that came with thorns pricking at his inside and flowers getting stuck in his throat. before he thinned to a point of concern, ribs poking through his skin and the roots wanting to break free of their cage, prominent enough that yugyeom can trace them from start to finish.

resting his head, yugyeom lets himself breathe for a moment, feeling the air fill his damaged lungs. it’s always just that little bit easier after the flowers have gone, littering the floor in their horror-filled beauty, but it doesn’t take long for more to blossom - and yugyeom will embrace any moment of peace before they can bloom again.

if he had been paying attention, he would have heard it.

footsteps.

the door clicks open.

jinyoung’s there, ready to admonish him for something, but he catches himself, staring in open-mouthed shock at the scene before him.

yuygeom’s dead eyes meet his.

and suddenly, the flowers on the floor are a lot less beautiful.

-

(jinyoung promises to keep his mouth shut, sweeping up the pretty flowers before yugyeom can even grab one petal.

there is a sincerity in his expression that yugyeom so desperately wants to believe in.

but jinyoung is an actor, a manipulator, a _liar_.

he isn’t even shocked when the other tells jaebum.

of course, life has to keep disappointing him.)

-

“i’m fine, hyung!” yugyeom states happily, his mouth stretched into a grin in the dressing room as they wait to go on stage (even though jaebum can see the specks of blood on his white shirt).

“i’m fine, hyung!” yugyeom smiles down, his eyes closed in an expression of serenity that seems so _real_ (even though jinyoung can see the tenseness in a boy that used to be so _free_ ).

“i’m fine, hyung.” yugyeom insists, appearing laid back in the way he picks at his food, pushing that he’s not hungry (even though jaebum can see his ribs through the silken material).

“I’m fine, hyung.” yugyeom tells him, curled up underneath a blanket in his room for comfort, he says (even though jinyoung is burning up in the heat of the dorm and the other is shivering erratically).

“I’m fine.” “i’m okay.” “you worry too much.”

_i’m not fine. i’m not okay. please help me._

“i’m-” yugyeom pauses, lip quivering as he looks up through his eyelashes at them, at the ones who grow the petals deep in his chest. tears are forming at the corner of his eyes and his scarily thin frame is shaking under their heavy gazes. petals are stuck to his mouth from the stickiness of the blood that never stops coming. “i’m not okay.”

(eventually, yugyeom learns it’s best to stop lying.

all it does is hurt them.

all it does is hurt _him_.)

-

(jaebum brings up the surgery.

yugyeom shuts him down before he can even really start.

partly because he doesn’t want to forget this, forget how much the two of them truly mean to him.

partly because he thinks he deserves this.)

-

it’s beginning to happen anywhere.

they’re in the middle of absentmindedly watching some old film that popped on on whatever channel jaebum had switched over to, when yugyeom can feel it, not even having a chance to process what is happening before the flowers spill out onto the floor. it’s _daisies_ , again, for the fifth time in a row - and yugyeom would question it if he thought there was any logic to the disease that had overwhelmed him.

“great, right when we’re watching a movie,” yugyeom sighs and he knows how much the others hate it when he’s like this, when he acts like coughing up enough flowers to make a bouquet is something normal - but it is to him now. this is him now, this disease is part of him and he can’t help how nonchalant he is about its existence, even as his voice cracks from the ache in his throat.

“i’ll clean everything up,” jaebum murmurs, moving over to the petals now decorating their carpet, the white of them almost entirely washed away by the sea of red. there’s an expression on his face that yugyeom can’t recognise, his chin jutted out in anger but his eyes full of emotion that seems the opposite. defeated, maybe.

“it’s fine, hyung, i’ll do it-” yugyeom starts, shifting to pick up his own mess, but jinyoung cuts him off.

“it’s not fine.” jinyoung starts, his eyes harsh as he glares directly into yugyeom’s eyes. “after a violent attack, you _need_ to rest.”

“hyung, it’s okay-” he stands to prove a point - but suddenly all strength is gone and his limbs are buckling beneath him and he’s just saved by jinyoung’s strong arm curling around his waist.

“you are going to bed. _now_.”

and that’s how he ends up beneath the sheets, jinyoung’s careful hands wiping the blood away from his lips as jaebum brushes a comforting hand through his bleached hair. it’s so intimate that it makes yugyeom yearn for another life - another time when maybe jinyoung and jaebum could have loved him back, could have made these flowers stop blooming, could have prevented them ever growing in the first place.

“hyungs?” his voice is soft, quiet in a way he couldn’t have managed when he was his old, cheerful self. but it’s impossible for him to be loud now, to reach higher volumes when his throat burns from just whispers. “do you love me?”

jinyoung gets that irritated expression that always graces his features whenever yugyeom says something idiotic. “of course we do.”

“It’s just-” he needs to act as if this means nothing, as if the fact that he knows they love him in the way he wished they didn’t doesn’t tear him up inside. “if you guys love me, why don’t _they_?”

“i wish i knew, gyeom-ah.”

-

jaebum and jinyoung both realise in a moment that shouldn’t mean much.

yugyeom’s beside him, close enough that if something goes wrong, jaebum can be there to catch him - because ever since he saw the scarlet staining pink lips and skin stretched across gaunt features, he’s grown protective in a manner he no longer understands. strands of still fluffy hair are silver now, the boy snuggled up in an oversized sweater for their shoot and he looks… pretty, enchanting in a way that jaebum hasn’t noticed until now.

bambam’s got an arm thrown over his shoulder (a casual gesture that sets something alight in jaebum that he doesn’t quite understand), cracking some silly jokes that makes yugyeom’s forever downcast expression light up just that little bit. the boy is so evidently pained that even the others have begun to notice and jaebum doesn’t want to think about what that means, doesn’t want to think about how the other is slowly losing the will to continue.

and yugyeom _laughs_.

it’s a full thing that rips out of the other’s chest, loud and high-pitched and _beautiful_ , even if the other’s voice is hoarse with a lack of use and the state his throat is likely in. yugyeom’s eyes are squeezed shut and his head is thrown back in an expression of joy that jaebum hasn’t seen in such a long time that it blinds him, leaves him eyes burning from the sight of the sun itself. a hand goes to cover his mouth, to hide his grin away, and jaebum almost protests, almost rips away what covers sparkling rows of teeth and soft lips curved wide.

he doesn’t catch on instantly.

jinyoung does.

he peers over the instant he catches a hint of that unique giggle, fondness taking over his expression completely in a way he can’t hold himself back from. there’s always been _something_ about yugyeom, something about the boy who was so bubbly prior to all of _this_ that makes jinyoung secretly melt, even if he’d never admit it. he sees just a glimpse of that smile but it makes him grin, because it’s so rare now and fuck, he loves this kid so much-

and it hits him.

jaebum realises a split second later.

-

“yugyeom-ah, time to shoot!” one of the staff calls and yugyeom stands, fully expecting to be winded from even just the small movement.

but he isn’t.

suddenly, it’s easy to breathe. suddenly, his chest doesn’t feel compressed anymore. suddenly, he can’t feel the roots underneath his skin or the flowers blocking his airways. suddenly, he feels _alive_.

_i can breathe, i can breathe, i can breathe. i. can. breathe._

“yugyeom-ah? are you okay?”

_i think i might be._

“fuck, yugyeom-!”

_it’s strange._

_breathing properly feels weird._

-

“it’s gone.”

“gone?” yugyeom repeats incredulously, shocked by the concept the doctor is offering.

“there are other issues of course,” the doctor’s smile is sharp, yugyeom wincing, but his tone is incredibly gleeful for a man casually conversing about the illness that almost killed him. “but your case of hanahaki disease has been cured. it seems that the shock of the sudden disappearance of the flowers growing in your lungs caused you to overload and forced your brain to shut your body down as to not overwhelm you.”

“i’m cured?” yugyeom’s whisper is barely audible.

“you’re cured.” the doctor smiles. “now, would you like to see your friends?”

-

“yugyeom!” the chorus of his name in such joyful tones almost makes him break down, but he forces a small smile onto his lips.

“hey, guys.” it’s so _weird_. talking still hurts, his throat still sore from damage that will still take some time to heal, but he can breathe easily now, can walk without his lungs screaming at him to stop. there’s also the factor that his disease can only be cured in one manner, but he’ll tackle that later.

“you’re okay.” the utter relief on mark’s face, on all of their faces, nearly bursts the dam, nearly allows tears to fall (because he’s okay, he’s going to be _okay_ ), but he holds himself together, pieces the shattered parts of himself back together as well as he can. yugyeom may not be able to handle words, but he nods, shakily - _everything’s going to be alright_.

they seem wary of nearing, all of them, and yugyeom doesn’t blame any of them - frankly, he looks as if one strong breeze could knock him over - but jaebum still moves forward, carefully placing a hand on the small of his back to pull him into his embrace, nuzzling into his neck - and yugyeom nearly _cracks_ , burying his head into the other’s hair to hide his face from view.

gentle. the touch is gentle, but it conveys a lot, through the way jaebum holds him as if he’s something precious, something to be treasured. his gentle words convey even more.

“please don’t nearly leave me - _us_ \- again.”

“i won’t.” he promises.

yugyeom means what he says, for once.

-

“yugyeom-ah.” there’s a hand tenderly shaking yugyeom awake, but yugyeom fights against it, rolling away from whoever’s hand is rising him from slumber and whining. “yugyeomie, it’s time to wake up.”

“no, hyung-”

“jaebum-hyung made pancakes.”

jinyoung laughs at his eagerness as he shoots out of bed, but yugyeom just sticks out his tongue at him, plopping ungracefully down at the table as he bounces in his seat, finally able to be energetic.

“slowly, gyeom-ah,” jaebum scolds as he places the plate in front of him. “you’re still not used to big meals yet.”

“thanks, hyung! i’ll be careful, promise.” jaebum presses a kiss on the other’s forehead for good measure and watches as yugyeom melts, smile appearing on his lips as he cuts his food into small pieces.

jinyoung will laugh at the mess left on his face when the other is done - half of the plate cleared, a noticeable improvement from months gone by - responding to the other’s demands to clean up his plate with a roll of his eyes.

“seriously, gyeom-ah, it’s not difficult.”

“please, jinyoungie-hyung! i love you!”

“and i love you too. but i’m still not cleaning up after you.”

and yugyeom will whine and the two will laugh at their boyfriend.

theirs.

 _his_.

finally.

-

(a month later, yugyeom will dig under his bed and find the box full of every little petal.

a month later, every reminder of the pain he went through will be thrown in the trash.

an act of therapy.

it’s hard to find the petals beautiful anymore, when he has two boys who are far more beautiful right in front of him.)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm nervous to post this bc while angst is my speciality, i'm The Worst at characterisation so yugyeom is likely vry not yugyeom-y. sorry for that, but i hope you enjoy this anyway bois
> 
> also there isn't really a timeline for this but it kind of goes from flight log arrival to 7for7 but there's a mention of only mark/jaebum/jinyoung/gyeom being in the dorms early on even tho bam didn't move out till recently. just ignore the fact that it doesn't make sense
> 
> title from vapour by 5sos
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/mercurysgyeom/) (warning: all i do is tweet about gyeomie)


End file.
